


Drake-Brothers' Love

by Sharonfofaron



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Big Brothers, Brother Feels, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, M/M, Protective Older Brothers, drakecest, possible incest down the road
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharonfofaron/pseuds/Sharonfofaron
Summary: A series of one-shots and short stories about the boys in Uncharted 4. <3 Lots of brotherly feels. Because that's literally what they radiate with every fiber of their being, no matter where they are <3 Includes the story if Nate had been left in prison instead of Sam.





	1. Chapter 1

Nathan's face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw the flashlight beam outside. "Sam!" He sprinted outside, clearing his window with an eager hop, and it took only moments--and some risky climbing moves, due to his haste to see his big brother--before he reached the nearby rooftop. 

Sam caught him from behind, lifting him up and spinning him in a hug. "Ooh, you gotta learn to watch your back, little brother!" Nate laughed as Sam spun him and put him down. Sam ruffled his head. "Hey, it's good to see you, baby brother." 

Nate beamed up at him, and Sam felt his heart jolt a little in his chest. It always did when Nathan looked at him like that--like he was the greatest, greatest thing in the world. And he knew that in Nathan's world, he was. 

The euphoria pivoted to concern when he spotted the bruise on his brother's cheekbone. "Wha--" he stepped closer, cupping his brother's smaller face and turning his head to look at the marks. "What is THAT?"

"It's nothing," Nate said quietly, shrugging in an uncomfortable way that Sam instantly recognized. Nathan only shrugged like that when something was bothering him, but he didn't want Sam to worry. He did it every time he was upset, and every time he was sick. But Sam was never fooled. 

"What, were you fightin'? You never fight." It was true; Nathan didn't ask for trouble. You couldn't find a more even-tempered kid. Sam stepped closer. "Nathan..." he said in such a parent-worthy warning tone that Nathan couldn't help but meet his gaze like a guilty dog. 

"They said that Mom was in hell." It was so quiet that Sam barely heard it, even though the rooftops were silent otherwise. Nathan stared at the ground, and Sam immediately turned his little brother's face up towards him, putting his hands around his neck in a gentle bracing squeeze. He gave him a little shake. "Nathan, Nathan, they're just saying it because it gets to you, all right?" He shrugged. "You just gotta learn to laugh it off."

"You wouldn't," Nathan said, looking up at him surprisingly somberly. Sam met his gaze, focusing on his brother a little more: Nathan wasn't usually so earnest, or so direct in his gaze, unless he was seriously shaken up. Realizing that must be the case, Sam gave him a one-armed hug and laughed a little. He knew his little brother was right, anyway. "Well, do as I say, not as I do. And she's NOT, so don't worry about it." Sam said it with confidence, making them both feel a little better. It hurt Sam to think about his mother more than he would admit. 

He stepped back and started taking off his jean jacket to reveal a red Henley underneath. "Here. You'll catch a cold." 

Nathan rolled his eyes a little, but he couldn't help smiling. "I never get colds."

They both started laughing at the obvious joke, and Sam, still chuckling, started wrapping his little brother in the jacket affectionately, rubbing his arms up and down as he did to give them extra warmth. He felt a chill breeze across his own skin, but mentally brushed it off. "Really?" he asked knowingly, smirking "What d'you call those things you get every month from August to December, huh?"

"They're just...sniffles," Nathan said adorably, ensconced in the too-big-for-him jacket, and Sam giggled down at him as he ruffled his head. Nathan was the only person who could make him giggle like that. If the other guys from the street heard him make that sound...

Ah, fuck it, he thought as he fixed the jacket's collar and gave his brother a rub on the head. It's worth it. 

"Sniffles, huh." He smirked again. "Nope, little brother, it's jackets for you from now to January. And longer, even." 

Nate laughed ruefully and nodded. "Okay." He glanced back towards the orphanage. "What're you doing here like this, anyway? If the nuns see you, they're gonna call the cops!"

"Well, I got something for ya, and it couldn't wait 'til Christmas."

Nate blinked, surprised. Sam always got him a Christmas gift, even though he specifically told him not to. He couldn't stand the thought of his brother going hungry for a night because he spent money on a book; fortunately, Sam had confessed that the gifts were usually things he'd lifted from yard sales. 

"What?" he asked, curious now. Sam grinned and beckoned him towards the other side of the roof, grabbing his backpack as he went. "It's outside." 

"What happened to us staying out of trouble?" Nathan couldn't help asking a little nervously, excited too despite himself. Sam's smile grew bigger, recognizing his brother's usual dilemma. He knew he tended to be the leader, and that Nate liked following his lead--but Nathan also was the one who had enough sense to get unnerved by sneaky behavior sometimes. It made Sam braver somehow, stronger, to have someone following him around and taking part in his every adventurous whim. He knew things wouldn't be the same without Nathan. 

"Well, this is an exception," he said blithely, posture confident and strong as he reached down and started giving Nathan a boost. Nate jolted a little at being suddenly picked up, but caught on quickly and reached for the ledge smoothly. Sam leapt up next to him as lithe as a cat and lifted him up the rest of the way. 

"Sheesh, you're light. The sisters feeding you enough?" 

Nate shrugged as they crossed the next roof, puppy eyes instantly going from excited to guilty again. Sam had never seen someone with eyes as expressive as Nathan's, and chuckled inwardly despite his concern. They reached the next jump, but he put a hand out and pulled his brother back to stop him, raising an eyebrow as he held on tight. "You're givin' your food away again, aren't you. Nathan, you gotta stop doing that."

Nathan sighed, unable to think of a response. His brother knew him too well. But the little kids always seemed so hungry...

"Hey, you're still growin' too," Sam said, reading his mind. He pointed a finger at his brother firmly. "If you don't eat enough, you're gonna grow up stunted, with weak bones and stuff. AND you're never gonna be as tall as ME." He gestured to himself, knowing that Nathan always took discipline best when it was ended with a joke. Nate smiled a little and sighed again, shoulders going down in concession. "Okay." 

"Hey." Sam tapped him again and gestured across the gap before making the jump himself. He always went first, just in case Nathan's reach wasn't long enough and he needed somebody to catch him. "How's Father Duffy doing?" he asked as they kept climbing. 

"He's the one decent guy in there. You should come and say hi."

"Nah," Sam scoffed, "I don't need the guilt." 

They swung across a cross, with Sam joking "Was that a sin? I think that's a sin." before landing, and it took a few more minutes of climbing, Tarzan-swinging, and sliding to reach the street level outside the orphanage's gates. 

Nathan landed on the ground outside, a little rougher than Sam, and Sam let out a proud huff after patting Nathan's back. "And just like that, we're out."

"All right," Nate said, pleased. "I did it." 

"'Course you did." Sam's smile was confident, as if Nate's climbing and acrobatic skills were OBVIOUSLY on par, and Nate beamed at the praise. Sam always made him feel like he was inherently a superstar. He never doubted that Nathan could do anything, and vice versa. They were each other's one constant in life, their only support. 

Sam led him around the corner to a well-lit alleyway, where a red motorbike sat parked, shiny and new. "Check it out. Huh?" Sam gestured widely with his arms, presenting the bike like a prize. 

"Whoa. You got the 250?" Nate's mouth opened wide. 

"250?" Sam pretended to be offended. "What're you talkin' about, this is the 500cc, twin!" 

"No way."

"Yeah."

"Where'd you lift it from?"

Sam put a hand to his chest, gasping like a scandalized old woman. "Whoa...that's a low blow. I'll have you know that I am a...changed man. Bought this with hard-earned cash." Nate glanced at him in between looking over the bike, smiling at his brother's pretend offense. Sam stepped up and patted him on the back, nodding towards it. "Here, c'mon, take a seat."

Nate stopped then, his big blue eyes looking at Sam's velvet-brown ones, and froze in place, eyes assessing something that Sam wasn't sure he wanted his brother to see. He already felt like a dick for what he was about to do, but Nathan's puppy-eyed-perceptiveness always made it feel much worse.

He tried to look innocent, and laughed a little, but they both knew it wasn't his real one. "What??"

Nathan looked like he was choosing his words carefully. It wasn't a good look on him, and Sam wished he could ease his mind. "The only time you pull a stunt like this...is when you're trying to make up for something." 

Sam leaned back a little, taken aback by the shrewd observation. For a brief second, he was at a loss for words, before his brother's big innocent eyes made his bolster step back up again. "YOU are too smart for your own good, you know that?" He sighed and straightened, hands splayed out plaintively as he leaned across the bike. "All right. I got this job. Pays well, REALLY well, but, uh...I gotta leave town for a little bit." 

Nathan stayed stock-still, his face suddenly revealing nothing--and Sam knew that meant he was pissed. "What's a little bit?" The voice was inscrutable, too, and still careful. Nothing like Nathan's. 

Sam felt like fidgeting. He really wanted Nathan to stop making that face. "Like a...a year." Nate's eyes immediately widened, looking scared now, and Sam didn't even register that he was moving before he'd rushed around the bike to put a hand on his little brother, voice already calming and entreating. "At the MOST, and then I'll be back before you even know it, all right?" 

Nathan looked at the ground, eyes frantic, and visibly swallowed hard before quietly saying "It's not fair."

"Hey." Sam ducked his head to catch his brother's gaze. Nathan looked back up at him tremulously. "Nothing about our lives has been fair...but we've made it work, right?" he said, sounding serious and a little sad. He gave his brother a little chuck on the chest, and Nathan let him, his eyes now fixed on his big brother's face. 

Nathan couldn't get what Sam had just said out of his head...so he made the decision, and sighed and nodded. "Yeah. So--" he forced himself to start perking up again "...what's your job?" 

Sam relaxed a little, and gave him another chuck on the chest, marveling at his luck. He really did have an easygoing little brother. 

"Why don't I take you for a ride somewhere and I'll tell you about it." Nate smiled at that feebly, but consciously made it look stronger, and Sam wanted so desperately to believe the grin's light that he did. 

He couldn't help being excited about his job; he'd be working on an archaeological expedition down off the coast of Africa, mostly doing maintenance on the boat, but he'd gotten the dive manager to agree to let him sit in and learn a little on the actual work. Sam hadn't been this excited about something since his mother was alive--not that he said that out loud to Nathan. But Nathan knew it all the same. Sam was positively giddy with excitement, and Nate's adaptable behavior had finally given him release; he could fully enjoy the opportunity, without guilt. 

And Nathan was determined to keep it that way. 

When he dropped him off, Sam hoisted Nathan up onto the roof and gave him a long, genuine hug, rubbing his brother's back and kissing his hair for a second. He felt a pang in his chest; he really was going to miss him. God, he wished Nathan could come. But Nathan was still smiling, and hugging him tightly back--and feeling his own, well-hidden pang--so he leaned back and grinned, still not quite ready to let go of his baby brother but knowing that they were almost out of time. "Hey, I'll be back before you know it. You sure you're okay with this?"

Nate nodded, smiling up at him like a little kid. "Yeah. Send me pictures, and letters. And drawings."

Sam laughed. "I'll try to draw, Nathan, but you know you're way better at it than me."

Nate blushed a little at the praise for his artwork. He really did like to draw, and he had talent.

Sam considered him for a second, then gave him one more tight hug, actually lifting him off the ground as he did it, and ruffled his head between giving it a kiss. The excitement was tempered with pain now; a kind of homesickness, a NATHAN-sickness, already starting. Nathan felt his brother's light start to fade, and immediately revamped it with a big happy grin. "Go, Sam! Have FUN!"

That did it, and Sam's legendary smirk came back out. "You got it, little brother. I'll see you soon." 

It was only after Nathan was sure Sam had cleared the rooftops and gone that he cried.


	2. Chapter 2

Nathan sighed, playing with his food again. He'd gotten another letter from Sam last night, a good one. A picture of Sam, next to a half-unearthed sunken ship; a picture of Sam, next to some monkeys; a picture of Sam on deck with the ship's crew. Nathan could tell from their smiles that Sam had already managed to charm his way into everyone's affections as predicted. Mom used to say that Sam could disarm anyone from the Queen to the Pope. He really WAS the funny one, after all...

Nathan had meant it when he made the decision to let Sam leave guilt-free and happy, and he didn't regret it. Those smiles in the photos were some of the biggest he'd ever seen on Sam, and the letters all started with things like "I'm writing this from the boat's railing, one leg in the water...hope a shark doesn't get it, right? Eh, they wouldn't want me, Duke says. He says I'm too tough to be delicious meat anyway. We found some new pieces of the wreck today, since the sun is shining and it was good weather for it. I found some coins, too; they said I can't keep 'em, but I did some rubbings when they weren't looking. You gotta see this place, Nathan! I promise we're coming back here as soon as you're out--"

Nathan always struggled to write his letters back; what was he supposed to say? None of his news would match that level of excitement--and he had to clamp his hand over the pencil whenever he was about to write something guilt-inducing. The temptation came up a LOT--he missed Sam so much...but notes like that would make Sam come running. So last night, Nathan had stared at his pallid reflection in the window and given himself a pep talk. 

"No," he whispered firmly. "No. You are NOT doing this to Sam. NO."

That repetitive speech had gone on for so long, he'd barely slept--and now he didn't even want to eat. The nuns had noticed his dark circles and his weight loss, though, and Sister Catherine was cracking down, so he ate the breakfast. Even if he felt like he was going to throw up all the time. 

"Nathan." He looked up to see her gesturing, summoning him into her office, and he got up from the table silently. She sighed as she closed the door and made him sit down. 

"He's gone, isn't he?" It was whispered, but Nathan's eyes snapped up to hers. She smiled comfortingly. "Of course I know, Nathan. You think I expected your brother to leave you behind without sneaking visits? Don't worry." She winked, and Nathan stared, still surprised. Were nuns even ALLOWED to wink? "I won't tell. But--" her face grew pitying now and knowing "He is gone, isn't he."

Nate hesitated, then nodded, looking at the ground. 

"Something good or bad?"

"Good. Just...hard."

"You miss him." 

Nate nodded, suddenly feeling tears pricking his eyes, and let out a sniffle. 

"You know what I think, Nathan?" 

He looked at her tremulously, and her gaze softened even further. "I think," she wrapped her arms around him "you need a hug." 

Nathan was so eager for comfort that he literally collapsed into her arms, crying, and clutched her tight. She rubbed his back softly and sighed. "He's gonna come back, Nathan, it's okay," she murmured kindly. "I know it hurts. You didn't tell him how much you'd miss him, did you?" 

Nate barely got the words out between sniffles and sobs. "I w-wanted him t-to g-go-" he said plaintively, whimpering. 

She nodded. "That was a really nice thing you did, Nathan. But I know the sacrifice really hurts while it's actually happening. Will he still be gone for a while longer?"

Nate nodded and clutched at her again, a new bevy of sobs happening. Sam's absence had rubbed his nerves raw, and right now he didn't care who heard the crying. It had been so easy to be the martyr at the time...before Sam had actually been gone...

"Well, Nathan, you come get me whenever you're feeling lonely. And I'll come check on you every night, okay? I'll help distract you?" 

Nathan sniffled and rubbed his eyes, feeling a bit better. It felt so good to cry. "Th-that's all the time."

Sister Catherine, realizing he meant feeling lonely, smiled sadly and rubbed his head. The gesture reminded him of Sam, and he let out another small sob. "Hey." He looked at her, puppy eyes filled with tears, and her heart broke for him. "It's going to be okay, Nathan. HE'S. COMING. BACK." She held his face, and he took deep breaths, inhaling her bracing words like the words a coach gave to a fighter. 

"I know you don't feel hungry when you're upset, but you have to keep eating. AND sleeping," she said kindly, but firmly. Nate sniffled more, but nodded. "We don't want your brother to worry when he gets back, right?"

"N-no." 

"He'll have my head if you're not in perfect shape," she joked, and Nate sat up a little, laughing wetly. "Yeah," he murmured, pleased at the thought of Sam's return. 

"Nathan, I'm sure Sam misses you," she said suddenly. "He does, you know that, right? He's just a little too busy right now to feel it as much as you." 

Nathan felt a glimmer of resentment at that; but then the pining for Sam started again, and he went back to missing him desperately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam jumped down onto the boat's deck, letting out a casual "whew" and smiling as he strode across the deck. They were pulling up some wreckage today, and he couldn't wait to see what it was. 

"You ready for this, Sam?" Harry asked, joining him near the railing to look down at the water. Harry was a fun-loving Brit, who tended to show up on digs but didn't necessarily explain why. Sam liked him, though, and so did everybody else in this industry, so he stuck around. 

"Yeah. This is gonna be great." Sam held up his disposable camera, and Harry raised an eyebrow. "What? I'm taking a picture for--" 

"Your little brother, I know," Harry said knowingly, cutting him off with a laugh and a cigarette. "EVERYBODY knows by now. Hey," he looked interested "You got a picture or somethin'?" 

"Yeah." Sam pulled out a photograph of the two of them, one that he kept securely in his pocket all the time. They'd taken it only shortly before Mom--so both boys looked incredibly happy. 

Harry whistled. "He's a cute kid. Looks like he's a sweetheart, too."

"Yeah, he is," Sam said, hearing the pride in his own voice. "And he's really easygoing, too."

"How do you mean?"

Sam's expression got mischievous. "Ehhh, let's just say he's got more of the nice-kid-next-door kinda thing going on than I do."

"Can he draw better than you?" Harry nodded towards the letter Sam was drafting, which he'd taken out to put the photo of the divers in. One of Sam's funny doodles was right on top. "Yeah," Sam laughed, "he can. He's actually really good, see?" He held up one of Nathan's sketches of their Boston rooftop-world. Nathan had drawn it on the rooftop a few weeks ago, and even though it was in pencil, he'd somehow managed to capture the right light.

"Hey, that's pretty good. Whoop--they're bringing it up--" Everyone's attention shifted to the crane lifting the wreckage up, but Sam's mind kept shifting focus.

'I wish Nathan was here'. 

He thought that all day. And that night, cracking up at dinner over the experienced men's funny stories, drinking a beer--and later, alone on the deck in the moonlight, sitting on a railing and rising and falling and swaying with the boat's dances. 

God, he missed his baby brother. And Sam suddenly started really counting the days.


	3. Chapter 3

Nathan had lost count of how many pounds he'd lost. He WAS eating--sleep wasn't going well, even though he was still technically getting a few hours--but the stress of Sam's absence just seemed to make it all fall off his body right away. The nuns were worried--but Sister Catherine couldn't tell them that they were wasting time with doctor's appointments and larger meals. Only Father Duffy could be trusted to keep the secret about Sam: Nathan just wasn't going to get better without him. 

It was getting harder and harder to focus in classes, and Nathan had actually seen the little bird-bones in his hand the other night when he was up drawing. His drawings weren't as great as they used to be, too; they were still nice, but rushed and hasty. Sam had noticed, but he thought maybe Nate was just going for a different style. He didn't want to make Nathan feel bad about his talent by mentioning the difference. And there were only a few days left to get home, anyway; he could ask him about it then. 

Nathan's weight and energy started going up drastically when he got the final return date in Sam's most recent letter--but it still wasn't enough improvement in enough time. He saw his reflection as he stared out the window that night, waiting for Sam. He looked smaller. Pale. Tired. Dark. And his shoulders and neck seemed...thin. 

Nathan felt uncomfortable at the sight, and shifted his view to focus outside again. Sam was back...Sam was here...it would be good again--

The flashlight beam made him literally gasp in relief, and he nearly knocked Sam off his feet when he finally got to hug him.

"Whoa-a there, little brother, it's good to see you too," Sam said, grinning like a fool and laughing as he picked the excited Nathan up. Nathan practically radiated light, he was beaming so hard, and he immediately started talking when Sam set him down, eyes fixed up on his big brother's face. "You're back! How was it? What'd the shipwreck end up being? How many monkeys did you see? Were there sharks?"

Sam eyed his brother, thinking maybe he'd just felt weird and bony in his arms because it had been so long--but now he saw the shadows under Nathan's eyes, and the straining tension of his body, and how thin his neck looked...

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Nathan was talking so fast, and looked so, SO happy...Sam made the decision to save it for later. Let his brother be happy for now. He'd figure out what was wrong at the end. 

"Okay. So get this--" he guided Nathan to sit down with him against a ventilation shaft, again feeling the angles of his brother's shoulder-bones, and coughed it off before starting to storytell. Nathan listened, enchanted, sitting up straight and hanging on his big brother's every word for what felt like hours. Sam saw how desperately his brother wanted this; for Nathan, he pushed the worry out of his mind.

Until there was only half an hour left before Nate had to go back in. Sam ended the conversation on an open-ended note and sat up straighter, voice getting clearer and deeper. "Now." He put an arm around Nathan, forcing him to sit up more and face him in close proximity, "You gonna tell me what this is about?" He gestured to all of Nathan. 

Nate looked blank, then guilty. Sam's face got dark. "Nathan, you look like you lost at least ten pounds. More, even." Nate's expression gave it away. "It IS more, isn't it." Sam felt his voice break a little. "You haven't been eating?"

"No, I-I have been," Nate protested quickly...but it was clear from his protest that there was more to say. "AND?" Sam's voice got a littler louder and a lot more fervent. He suddenly sounded much younger again. "What, are-are you sick??" The question came out vulnerable and panicked.

"No--" Nate was quick to say, but he looked embarrassed.

Sam's face suddenly fell apart, and he leaned back a little in shock. "Jesus Christ, this is because of me. Nathan--"

There was heavy, tense silence, and Nate knew that a Sam freak-out was about to happen, but he had no choice but to make it start--

"I just missed y--"

"NATHAN!" It was an anguished reprimand. Sam stood up abruptly, pacing and running a hand through his hair, more upset than Nate had seen him in years. "What, you MISSED me and you were making yourself sick and you didn't TELL me?! How sick have you BEEN?!" 

Nate stood up too, looking small, which only made Sam more upset. "Jesus CHRIST, Nathan, you're a skeleton! You look like you just got punched!" He gestured to Nate's black eyes. "Nathan, if there's something wrong, you TELL me!" He stepped close, voice still anguished and fervent with a scary firmness in it now, his eyes boring holes into his little brother's. "You do NOT try to protect ME. Jesus Christ--" he turned away to pace in frustrated worry again, hands in the air, before turning back to Nathan and looking brokenhearted "Nathan, how could you DO this to yourself?! For twelve months--how could you--"

Nathan took a breath and abruptly met his brother's gaze. "It was because of what you said." 

Sam stopped moving and stepped closer, near tears but gaze fixed on his baby brother. Nate looked somber now, and sad, but strong. "You said...that we've made it work. WE didn't, Sam. WE haven't. YOU have." He stepped right up to Sam and looked his big brother in the eye, suddenly looking much older and calmer than he was. "Sam, you've had to grow up way faster than you should've. And you've had so much bad stuff happen, and had to worry about me and worry about taking care of yourSELF and you do it all without ever letting anybody else see how hard it is--you DESERVED that trip, Sam. NOBODY deserves happiness more than you. And I DON'T regret it." 

Nate's gaze was unyielding; he knew he was right, and he truly didn't regret his decision. But Sam stared at him, teary-eyed and silent for a full thirty seconds. "You--you shouldn't have had to do that, little brother," he said quietly, voice breaking and wet. "You shouldn't have had t-" he started crying, unable to help it, reaching to wipe the tears away with one embarrassed hand. Nathan took the other one and pulled him down to the ground, both of them kneeling, and hugged his big brother around his neck, rubbing his back. 

Sam still couldn't help feeling like it was wrong to let his little brother see him cry, but he just--he couldn't--

He cried for a while, clutching Nathan tightly and crying harder every time he felt his bones. "Nathan, I'm sorry, I'm--I'm so sorry," he gasped out, but Nathan kept comforting him. "It's OKAY, Sam," he said lightly, obviously. "I did this FOR you. And I'll be FINE now. Don't worry. I'm okay." 

"Nathan--" Sam jerked upright and held Nate tight by the upper arms, lifting him off the ground a little. His voice was dark and serious. "You. Do not. EVER. Do that to me again. You understand me?" 

Nathan nodded, looking sad and guilty again. "Jesus," Sam relented and hugged him again "if something had happened to you while I was gone--" 

"But IT DIDN'T." Nate made him meet his gaze. "I'm okay, Sam. And I was really happy to see how happy you were in your pictures." 

"I missed you," Sam said suddenly. "I really did." He wiped away some tears, still sniffling. "Every-every time somethin' fun happened, I wanted you to be there. Literally, every time--"

"Shhhh, Sam, it's okay," Nate said, stronger now that his brother needed him. He kept his hands on his brother's arms, both of them sitting down now while Sam collected himself. "I missed you too, obviously." He smiled weakly, and Sam's heart melted before his eyes turned hard again.

"Nathan, I swear to God. NEVER again, you understand me?" He held him tightly upright again. "Promise me. You do not EVER try to keep something like this from me because you're trying to protect me. Never again, Nathan, or I swear to God--"

Nathan nodded quickly. "I promise." 

"Jesus Christ." Sam practically collapsed as he hugged him again. "Jesus Christ." 

He sniffed and rubbed at his face and nose before standing up again and lifting Nathan with him as he did. "Okay," he sniffled again, visibly regrouping "Shit, I feel like I'm gonna pass out. We gotta get you back." 

"It's okay, Sam, I can go by myself--"

Sam was already shaking his head. "No no no little brother you don't even look like you can STAND. I'm jumpin' WITH you." 

It really was only a few hops and clambers back to the room, but Sam still insisted on going first and felt like his heart was gonna jump out of his chest every time Nathan was midair. His brother really did look frail. Like a blade of grass, he thought, and he had to fight the urge to squeeze him tight again.

That fight failed several times--and by the time Nate was back in his room, he was feeling one billion times better, and so was Sam. He still didn't think he'd sleep right until Nathan looked like his normal self again, though. 

"I'll be back tomorrow night, aright?" Sam asked, peeking over the window ledge as Nathan looked down at him. "Okay. Sam, I'm gonna be fine now that you're back." Sam shook his head, HARD.

"Nuh-uh, little brother, you think I'm leaving you alone again for anything more than a few hours EVER AGAIN and you're crazy. I don't ever wanna see you like this again, understand?" His voice got firm again, and Nate nodded as he saw again just how much he'd scared him. He put a hand over his brother's. "I got it, Sam. Never again." 

Sam let out a breath. "Okay. Tomorrow night. Go to sleep." 

Nate nodded,but stayed still. "Sleep, Nate! Now!" That made them both laugh a little--and something about a good cry did indeed make them both have a good night's sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out my Spanish minor is good for something after all :) Not exact translations but good enough!

Five Years Later  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A fist slammed into Nathan's cheekbone and he stumbled backwards, feeling his back ram hard into a wooden ramshackle table. "HaHA!" His opponent, a skinny Panamanian man, opened his arms in triumph and turned to the crowd. "Esto va estar mas facil de lo que esperaba!" (This is going to be easier than I expected!) 

"Whoo," Nathan panted brightly, shaking off the blow and straightening back up. It was hard to be grumpy about the punch when the sunshine warmed his skin--and when there was a bigger game at play. "You're gonna have to do it better than that, pal." 

"Acabemos con esto," the man sneered. (Let's get on with it). He was only in his twenties, but still had a few years on the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed eighteen year-old Nathan. Nathan, not being particularly astute with threats--a Drake family trait, it seemed--cheerfully replied "Let's go!"

He got in a fair few of his own solid punches, making the man--Gustavo--fall back into some onlookers' arms and laugh. "Chingada, este gringo sabe pelear, eh!" (Whew, this foreigner knows how to fight, huh?)

Someone tackled Nate from behind, grabbing his arms to hold him for Gustavo's punches, but Nate kicked Gustavo in the chest and broke free. "Get--OFF!" He got the upper hand then, punching Gustavo in a flurry of punches and smacks, until the prison warden arrived and dragged him off the still-seething opponent. "Hey, give me a call when you're tall enough to ride the rides!" Nate couldn't help taunting as he was led away, Gustavo spitting after him and being held by his own pair of guards. 

Nathan could feel his pulse beating throughout his entire body, and his head was definitely ringing--not to mention the sharp pangs in his ribs, pangs he knew meant some bruises--, but he still couldn't wipe the mischievous little-boy-smirk off his face as he was led away to "solitaria". 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Rafe and Sam were in the prison yard. Sam had started up a game of dice to distract himself from the knowledge that his baby brother was currently being beaten up without him. At only eighteen years old. 

The distraction worked for a moment when he won, but quickly faded, so he settled for taking one cigarette and tossing the others down for the remaining players before leaving the game. Rafe showed up by his side, coming over from where he'd been keeping to himself--and, Sam had noticed, from where he'd been studiously avoiding the other prisoners' attempts at flirtatious conversation. Rafe was a small guy, and a pretty-boy, and he didn't need good Spanish to understand what some of these men were asking. Sam had glanced at him once in a while, nervous for him at first--the prospect of fighting off a gang-rape had NOT been something they'd discussed--but whatever Rafe had said had been enough to temporarily ward off the advances without starting a fight. (Little did Sam know it had been fake flirtation back--and Rafe was never going to tell him). 

But Rafe still didn't look relaxed as he sidled up to Sam. "Sam, a word?" 

"Yeah, sure," Sam murmured casually through his cigarette. "Nathan's doing it now." 

Rafe nodded. "Good. But if this doesn't pan out today, and we're in here for a while longer..." his face got serious and earnest. "You gotta talk to him for me," he said plaintively. 

Sam took pause at that, holding his cigarette mid-pose. "What're you talkin' about?"

"Look." Rafe's voice got lower and faster, glancing around before stepping closer. "It's no secret that Nate doesn't like me. But in here--" his voice got more fervent as Sam's face turned into an amused smile and he gave a patronizing laugh, glancing around casually and chuckling at Rafe's true statement "in HERE" Rafe vied for his attention again, and got it "it's a PROBLEM."

"Rafe, you're telling me to make my brother play better with you in the sandbox?" Sam was still laughing. Rafe glowered at him, willing himself not to blush. 

"Look, your brother is a NICE guy. Total guy-next-door. Everybody likes him, and he makes friends right away--which MEANS" he had to vie for Sam's focus again, since Sam was still chuckling and smoking, and the effect of the much-shorter guy dancing around to catch Sam's eye was almost comical "it's completely obvious in comparison to those guys that he doesn't like" he gestured to himself "THIS guy. And that makes people think there's HISTORY between us."

"What, you went on a bad date?" Sam joked sardonically. Rafe kept talking, fast. "Sam, ANY kind of noticeable connection between us is a bad idea. People are going to WONDER why he doesn't play ball with ME when he does with everyone else." 

"Interesting choice of words," Sam joked, but he gave Rafe a narrow-eyed look and patted his arm for a second in comfort. "All right, I'll talk to Nathan."

"Good. He listens to you." 

Sam scoffed, pleased and proud despite himself. "Yeah, he better." 

The moment was over, but Rafe couldn't help darkly murmuring "hope it's going well"--meaning Nate's current fight and climb--before leaving around a corner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It WAS going well, actually; Nate had gotten in an excellent nap in solitary. The cell was quiet, and nobody bothered him, so he woke up happy and well-rested when Vargas knocked to have the guards bring him back out.

He had to stay in character, though--so he played a cocky, but slightly uneasy prisoner who was being led off to a remote location for bad things to happen to. And he played it well, judging by the guards' smirks and laughs as he was led away handcuffed. It wasn't until Vargas released him for the climb that he got to relax again. 

"Whew," he said to himself as he climbed, "those ribs are really smarting--"

By the time he'd gotten to the old tower, gotten the cross, and slid and roped his way down, breathing was becoming more of a wheezing. "This is...not good..." he whispered to himself. Nate had a strong habit of talking to himself--it was his way of staying optimistic and cheery, even in tough situations. But Christ, his ribs really did hurt. And by the time he made it back into the prison yard to reunite with Sam and Rafe, he was white as a sheet.

"JeeeeSUS, they worked you over good. You all right?" Sam asked, looking his brother over in concern. That concern only multiplied when Nathan didn't have any cheerful comebacks or one-liners, and kept his jaw tight. "Busted ribs; Sam--" 

"All right, little brother, let's get outta here, huh?" Sam said, automatically shifting his voice to sound calm and light as he gently put an arm on his brother's lower back to start guiding him. It was hard to sound like a calm parent though when Nate looked like he was in so much pain. 

Rafe showed up immediately; he'd clearly been keeping Sam in his sights. "Nathan's hurt," Sam said in a quick murmur, his eyes showing the seriousness of the situation even if his voice didn't. 

Rafe looked Nate over quickly, but was reluctant to leave his questions unanswered. "What happened? Did he let you into the old prison?"

Nate nodded quickly and tightly, and Sam distinctly heard him wheeze as he whispered "Y-yes. But V-vargas wants m-more money--" 

"What?" Rafe's face creased in concern, Sam's own face falling even further 

"He read the l-letter--"

"SHIT. Well, come on, let's go find him." 

"Come on, little brother, just walk smooth and slow," Sam murmured, guiding him subtly and keeping an arm around him once they got further away from everyone else. Unfortunately, Gustavo showed up then--with some friends. But Rafe could hold his own in a fight, and took on the outliers while Sam focused on just defending a feeble Nathan--who could barely get his fists up. The guards broke up the fight then, and Vargas was quick to have them brought to his office, as planned--but he had NOT planned for Rafe's knife in his side. 

"Are you outta your goddamned mind?" Nate hissed at Rafe, shock absorbing some of his pain. "You wanna find out?" Rafe snapped back, eyes wild, and Sam stepped forward, glancing at the door where guards had started knocking. "Guys, what're we doing here?" He looked at Nathan nervously, checking up on him before looking at Rafe. 

"We're sticking to the plan." Rafe took the keys from the dying man's pocket and opened the back door rapidly. Sam stepped that way tentatively, reaching out a hand to tug Nathan in that direction when he saw that Nathan was staring at the body. "C'mon, c'mon!" he said quickly. "NATHAN!" he hissed, the urgency finally making Nathan snap out of it and look at his brother. "We gotta run." Nate understood his point then, and swallowed hard. This was going to really hurt his ribs--but they had no choice, and he could see that realization in Sam's eyes too. 

Rafe started out the open door at a run--fast for someone so short, Nate dimly thought before taking a wheezing breath and joining him. Sam ran with him in tandem. "Head for the lighthouse. The boat is right under the lighthouse," Rafe panted as they ran through the maze of hallways. 

The escape began then, albeit far less subtly than intended. Nate was able to keep up with Sam, his breath ragged and his eyes a little wet. Sam covered him the whole way, staying with him and looking back constantly to make sure he wasn't staggering--and he couldn't help murmuring "Oh, Jesus," when he saw tears going down his baby brother's face. Nathan was only eighteen...he was only GODDAMN eighteen--he still radiated little-boy innocence but now he'd just seen someone murdered and he was in pain on a prison escape--and it was all for his big brother--

Gunshots punched the walls near them, distracting him from his increasingly-guilt-ridden thoughts, and Nathan fell a few times before Rafe started--with visible reluctance--staying closer to cover the boys' progress.

It was when they had to start climbing that Nate really struggled, unable to avoid making sounds of pain and gasps. He could feel the tears on his face, just like Rafe and Sam could see them, and was barely keeping up. "Nathan, Nathan, come on we're almost there" Sam was saying urgently on the rooftop, his heart racing furiously as he helped his brother onto the roof. 

"Sam k-keep keep going--" Nate stammered out as they hid behind an air vent. The way into the jungle--and the peak of the lighthouse--were only a few hundred yards away. Sam shook his head. "NO, Nathan, come on we're doing this--" he shouted firmly and desperately over the cacophony of bullets. He yanked Nate to his feet when Nate was being too slow for him, and they started for the last roof. It was only little jump, but Nathan could barely make it. Sam caught him on the edge and was in the middle of pulling him up.

Then some more gunfire rang out, and Nathan froze. Sam's eyes widened in horror as he clutched at his baby brother--and he started whimpering "No no NO NO" when he saw blood leaking out of Nathan's mouth.

Nathan felt tired and tingly all of a sudden, being held midair by Sam, and it was only when he felt the blood in his mouth that he realized what had happened. Panicked and scared, he looked up at his brother--and the last thing he could do was send his brother all of his love for him in his gaze before he fell into the dark, hearing Sam's anguished cry in the air above him. 

"Nathan! NATHAN!!!!! NO!" Rafe tried to drag Sam away amidst his screams, but it was only when some bullets grazed him that Sam's own bodily instincts forced him to start shrinking away and retreating. It was still a battle though, and it took a few more jolts of bullets' screams before he'd started actually running, whimpering all the while. "Nathan...NATHAN...Nathan, no--NO--"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, Victor Sullivan got a call on the border of Costa Rica. "Hi, Victor, it's Rafe."

"Rafe? So I take it you boys are out of prison, then. How'd it go?" Sully's voice changed rapidly as he realized what he'd heard in Rafe's. 

"Victor..."

"Oh no." Sully could hear himself sounding old and scared now. "Please no."

There was a pause.

"Nathan didn't make it." 

Sully staggered against the table he was leaning on, but Rafe kept talking, fast. "Victor, LISTEN, Sam's an absolute wreck. He's just shaking and staring at nothing and SHAKING--I can't get him to get off the boat. You gotta keep it together for Sam, okay? You gotta help me get him outta here, otherwise we'll be caught." 

Sully felt himself shriveling up, and his breath becoming erratic, but nodded. "Where--" he coughed, his voice fumbling and faint "where are you?" 

When Sully got to the harbor, firmly trying to fight off the tears, he saw that Rafe was right. Sam was shaking so hard that he could see it before he even got on the boat. "Oh, God, Sam," he murmured brokenly as he sat down and put his arms around him. Sam was crying now, his body tense. "H-heeeee's f-f-f-f-inne, he's fine, we gotta go back--" 

Rafe looked genuinely sad, and spoke quietly and kindly from where he knelt on the other side. "Sam, we can't--"

"THAT'S MY BABY BROTHER!" Sam roared, actually moving to hit Rafe before Sully held him back. He crumpled again under Victor's sympathetic grip, clutching his own head and still shaking, sobbing in huge gasps and heaves. This couldn't be real...no...this couldn't....no....no

Sully kept holding him and waited a while before speaking, feeling tears prick his own eyes. "We'll...we'll figure this out, Sam. But right now we can't...we can't stay here." 

Sam could barely stand, he was sobbing so hard, and he broke into violence again and tried to get back on the boat several times before they got him in the car. It would've been frustrating if it wasn't so, so sad. Even Rafe's voice was breaking a little. 

And that night, after Rafe had snuck some crushed-up sleeping pills into Sam's water and gotten him into the hotel bed--and gone outside, to sit and look at the water and definitely NOT to sniffle to himself--Victor Sullivan sat by the room's window, looking up at the moon withOUT a cigar, and cried.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of rape and suicide.

It was months before Sam did anything other than sit around in hotel rooms or outside, staring into space. Sully had promised that he would go to the ends of the earth to confirm if...what had happened...really had happened, and he hadn't let Sam get anywhere near the investigation. No one could go into a manic search quite like Sam, and Sully knew that this particular one would be nothing but a painful dead-end. So he checked everywhere, on his own-and everything he found confirmed it. Nathan was gone. 

Sam didn't smoke anymore, or drink, or really even eat. For a twenty-three-year-old, he looked haggard. At the six-month mark, Sully dragged him on a treasure hunt--and, seeing that it helped a little (in between Sam's guilty thoughts and wishes that Nathan was there with him), started making him go on more. By the time he was twenty-five, Sam was able to genuinely laugh again on rare occasions--but not without guilt. And he turned white as a ghost and just about fell apart the one time they had to work with a guy named Nathan. 

Sully started paying for more top-dollar hotels in nicer neighborhoods, too; he knew if Sam turned to drugs now, there might be no going back. And he watched him like a hawk. In a way, it was a blessing: taking care of Sam kept him from falling apart himself. And Sam did genuinely say thank you, now; he knew what Victor was doing for him, and it meant a lot. But it was still hard to walk around feeling like half of you was missing. 

Sam's humor changed, too; he worked with Chloe Frazer and Nadine Ross in India, and found some excitement to liven his blood, but he was caustic and sardonic now, never slapstick. He didn't bat an eye at all the openings Nadine Ross inadvertently gave for him to tease her. Hell, he didn't even bat an eye at the openings women in BARS offered to him. No sex, no smokes, no drinks. The old Sam would have laughed and said that was no fun. But Sam didn't even know what fun was anymore. The closest thing he could feel was adrenaline on the hunt. 

He became more and more reckless, taking suicide missions and free-climbing virtually-impossible climbs. Sully was worried again; but he knew he couldn't stop him. And hell, without Nate he was feeling like a trip off a cliff more and more, too. And he felt OLD. Nathan had always made an effort to make him feel young. 

At twenty-six, Sam had narrowed it down to only staring at old photos of him and Nathan every OTHER night. And when coworkers asked about his past, he was able to quietly say "I had a brother" without bursting into tears. He'd even gone to a therapist a few times, although it made him uncomfortable enough to just spend most of the time crying. Sam didn't WANT to rehash everything he and Nathan had ever done; he just wanted some Cliff's Notes on ways to help the pain stop, NOW. He didn't want to think about that time he'd had to save Nathan from a pedophile while they were on the streets, and how hard Nathan had been shaking afterwards. He didn't want to think about the time he'd been nervous to talk to a girl, and Nathan had deliberately used his little-boy-cuteness to encourage him and to bring her over. How funny and high-pitched his sneezes were. Or all the times they'd cheered each other up after nightmares, or how Nate had looked whenever he'd ask about Mom and how big his blue eyes had looked in the moon. 

How he used to look at Sam like he was the whole world, even right up until the moment he died. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Those blue eyes flinched a little from the light as the cell door opened, adjusting from the ever-present darkness. Nathan was curled up in the corner, and couldn't help a small piteous groan when they lifted him. Once his ribs had gotten better, he'd been back to his optimistic self--but he'd run out of one-liners after the first year. Now it had been three. 

Who would it be today, he wondered as someone stepped forward. There was the guard who was rough with his hands, the guard who was actually sweet, the guard who hated his life...who was next in line?

He should have known when they insisted on keeping him in solitary all the time. It wasn't to protect him from the other prisoners; it was because the guards wanted him for themselves. 

He clenched his eyes shut and focused on breathing through it--and NOT thinking about Sam. His eyes always teared up and his breath hitched when he thought about his big brother, and he couldn't do that.

Not now, Sam, not now, he thought as he winced at the familiar pressure on top of him. I'll think about you later--

After all, he had nothing but time. 

And Sam would come back, he thought faintly--even though that thought was getting less and less confident every day. He would...He'd come, he'd come back...

He had to, because the alternative was enough to make Nathan's heart truly, truly break.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was in the middle of reading through The History of Pyrates for the umpteenth time when Sully came in the front door--with an expression unlike any he'd ever seen.

"Sully...?" he sat up from the bed. Sully sat down on the one next to him, talking rapidly. "He's alive, Sam," he said, sounding disbelieving and in shock. "Nathan's alive, he's in the prison. They chucked him back in a cell and hid it from the world."

Sam stared at Sully, not even blinking, for a full fifteen seconds. The disbelief turned to euphoria--then rapid horror. "So...so he's--"

"Yes. Nathan's been in there this whole time," Sully said grimly, nodding. Sam felt his face collapse and swallowed hard. Sully abruptly reached out and embraced him, holding his upper arms tight. "Sam, we're gonna get him back. I've already got the plane ready, and Elena will help. Pack, NOW." 

Sam nodded, quickly adjusting back to excitement and oscillating between joy and disbelief. If this was a dream...

"Sam." Sully looked at him knowingly, and suddenly beamed. "This is real. He's okay. Let's go bring home our boy." 

Sam grinned then slowly, eyes wet but smile big. It was the first one Sully had seen from him in three years. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Shit, where d'you think they're keeping him?" Sam said, eyes fixed on the fortress-like prison. He bobbed up and down with the boat as he stood on its deck, Elena looking over the prison with a scope and Sully manning the wheel. 

"Well, where were your cells last time?" 

"Upper left." 

"I'd say that's our best bet then. Likely that they just put him back in your old cell," Elena said thoughtfully. She gave Sam a glance ruefully, thinking it couldn't be easy to be back here--but actually, Sam was over-the-moon. 

He was finally going to see Nathan again, he--

"All right, let's move in," Sully said, deliberately interrupting Sam's thoughts. He didn't want them to get ahead of themselves; an overexcited Sam was an unfocused Sam. And Sully hadn't quite shaken the fear of screwing this up. He didn't think he'd survive if he had to go through losing Nathan again. 

It took about forty minutes to successfully sneak their way into the prison's upper level--with no small amount of guards being killed along the way. Sam remembered that their cell had been a quiet corner one bearing a small window with a view of the shore, and it only took a few minutes--and a few more stealthy casualties--to find it. 

But that man inside was NOT Nathan Drake. Sam stalled for a second, panting from the running he'd been doing in his eagerness to get there--but then he saw the cell's neighbor, a prisoner that he faintly remembered.

The prisoner looked at him incredulously, eyes wide in recognition as he stepped up to the cell door. "Tu...el hombre de la fuga!" (You....The man from the escape!)

Sam abruptly shoved his silencer-gun into the smaller man's throat, holding him still with the other hand and speaking fast and fiercely. "Donde esta el gringo? Mi hermano! Donde?!" (Where is the foreigner? My brother! WHERE?)

The prisoner held his hands up, terrified. "No se! No se! Nunca lo vimos después de tu escape!" (I don't know! I don't know! We never saw him after your escape!)

Sam's face suddenly fell as he let the prisoner go. "Nunca?" (Never?) 

The prisoner shook his head fervently. "Nunca!"

Elena and Sully had been covering both doorways, postures on edge and guns ready, but now Elena looked at Sam as his face blanched. "Sam...?"

"Sam?" Sam met Sully's eyes slowly in despair. 

"Shit," he whispered, horrified, "He's in solitary." 

"This WHOLE time?" Sully looked worried now, too. "Jesus. Poor Nate--"

"No time. Donde esta solitaria?" Elena asked the inmate. He pointed downstairs, eyeing Sam nervously. "Abajo. El otro lado del patio." (Down. The other side of the yard.)

"SHIT." Now it was Sully's turn to swear. 

"Okay," Elena said briskly, seeing that Sully and Sam looked pale "Let's go!"

It took another fifteen minutes to get into the solitary section--and several more guards lost their lives (and their keys) before it happened. Now that they'd made it into the obscure, dark hallway, it was eerily quiet. Sam felt it settle onto his bones. There were six cells, and he heard whimpers from some of them. The sound made him flinch...if it was NATHAN...

"Okay, let's check them all," Elena whispered, just as perturbed by the silence and the whimpers. They shone flashlights through the meal slots, one by one, seeing inmates flinch at the light. 

Sam and Sully couldn't check them faster--and Elena and Sully didn't have to worry about how they'd know who found the cell, because within thirty seconds Sam burst out into a normal-volume exclamation upon seeing his brother's prone, unmoving body in a flashlight-emblazoned corner. Sam would know his baby brother anywhere. 

"NATHAN! Nathan Nathan it's Sam I'm here Nathan--" Sam was so eager and frantic that he could barely be moved out of the way for Sully to open the door. Sully just straight-up shoved him to do it, but Sam didn't care. Elena grinned, happy for Sam, but couldn't make the happiness meet her eyes. They still needed to escape--and Nathan hadn't moved at the flash of light. She stayed outside, gun at the ready. 

Sam and Sullivan burst into Nate's cell, and Sam was on his brother and cradling him upright within seconds, clutching his face and neck. "Nathan, Nathan I'm here, Sam's here--" his excitement was mixed with upset now upon seeing the hollows of his brother's cheeks and the bruises. Nate's eyes opened a little upon hearing Sam's voice...it was like he was hearing it underwater, but then he felt the rough palms on his cheeks and Sam's breath on his face and blinked to see a little more. 

"S-saaa...Sam?" It was husky and weak, but Sam beamed like his face would break. "YES, yes it's me Nathan I'm here you're okay now, you're okay--Nathan I'm SO SORRY--"

"No time, Sam, get him up!" Sully whispered, smiling despite himself.

"Guys, come ON!" Elena whispered nervously. 

"Come on, Nathan, come on we're gonna get you out--" Sam lifted his brother bodily, since Nate's legs crumpled on the first try, and Sully helped him with another arm to hang Nate upright between them. "All right, slow and steady Nathan, that's okay you can do it," Sam murmured happily, worried but still relieved. The next few minutes were filled with gunfire as Elena covered them and Sully and Sam tried to cocoon Nate's vulnerable position with their bodies, hunching him between them as best they could. It was slow but steady going--and Sam didn't think he'd been this stressed out since three years ago. If they got him back to just lose now...

Nathan, for his part, was gradually becoming more aware of his surroundings. Of Sam's arm around him, and Sully's voice--he thought he distantly heard Elena...everything felt hazy, but he could feel sunlight bearing down on his forehead, and there was some kind of popping sound...he heard Sam swear, and realized faintly that it was gunfire. Sam...Sam--was Sam okay?--

"Sa--Sam," he managed to get out in a guttural groan, and Sam glanced at him, hearing that he sounded more like himself now even though it was underneath gunfire. "You're okay there, Nathan, I gotcha--I'm here--"

Nathan let out a "mmf" of exertion as they moved up some stairs and Elena covered their backs. "Almost there, Nathan, almost there," Sully said on his left now.

The next thing Nathan remembered was cool wetness and sliding. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, quick, get him up," Elena said, all three of them helping to bodily lift the now-unconscious Nate into the boat before she darted behind the boat's side and started firing back at the remaining guards up above. 

"He's on! Gun it!" Elena nodded at Sully's command and raced to the wheel while he took over the firing. Sam pulled Nathan further towards the boat's roofed helm and sat him up against a seat on the deck, deliberately covering his brother with his body while Sully covered their retreat. 

"We good yet, Sully?" Elena asked sixty seconds later. "I need to get a look at Nate!"

"Here, I'll take over, help Sam!" Sully took the wheel and sped the boat further ahead into open water, still looking behind them for any signs of marine pursuit. Elena thanked her lucky stars for her basic medical training and got down next to a fretting Sam and a still-out-of-it Nathan. 

Nathan started moaning and opening his eyes a little as she yanked over the medical kit, and shifted in place. "Hi, it's okay Nathan, it's okay," she said cheerfully and soothingly, working fast and efficiently as she started unwrapping an IV. "Sam, check his torso and legs." She gave his arms a quick squeeze, gingerly feeling for injured shoulders, while Sam hastily felt his brother's body for bruises or wounds. Nate winced a little at the pressure of his brother's hands, and Sam distinctly felt scars that made his own heart pang with regret. 

"He's good," he told Elena quickly, refocusing on his still-almost-unconscious brother. "Nathan, Nathan can you hear me? You're out, Nathan, you're out--it's okay now--"

Nate's eyes opened suddenly, and he jerked forward to grab Elena, who jolted. "SAM--WHERE'S SAM--"

"HERE, Nathan, here I'm here--" Sam grabbed his brother's face and held it, smiling and laughing a little breathlessly. "It's okay. It's not a dream. You're out. We got you out. You okay?"

Nathan's eyes--those blue eyes that Sam had missed so much--opened fully and focused on his big brother. "Sam, you're okay..." he breathed, relieved. 

Sam laughed, and ruffled Nate's head gently. "What, you worried about ME? I'm more worried about YOU. How you feelin'?"

"T-tired..."

Sam glanced at Elena, but she gave him a reassuring smile. 

"Elena's gonna fix you up, okay?"

Nate nodded and gave her a happy glance. "Th-thanks." He smiled weakly when Sully peeked around the corner. "DAMN, it's good to see you alive, kid," Sully said brokenly, surprising himself. 

Nate just kept smiling for a moment, before leaning his head back with his eyes closed. "Rest, Nathan," Sam said, grinning. "Elena's gonna give you some food, aright?" 

Nate nodded weakly, not bothering to ask how as Elena hooked up the IV. It was a large bag of milky-white fluid called TPN, a mixture chock-full of nutrients. It was usually used for malnourished patients or patients who needed to bulk up for surgery. Sam hadn't asked how Elena had gotten it. 

Nate didn't even flinch as the needle went into his arm, making Sam worry more, and he inserted some more pep into his own voice. "Good thing you're not lactose-intolerant, huh?" he laughed, making Nate open his eyes a little and smile as he saw the "milk"-filled bag. He gave a tiny little huff of a laugh before closing his eyes again, and Elena nodded towards him. "Let's lay him down for some sleep, okay?"

Sam nodded, moving his brother as gingerly as a kitten, and nestled himself against him so that Nathan rested against his side--and for the first time in three years, they both truly relaxed.


	7. Chapter 7

For Nathan, the next few weeks were filled with lots of rest, relaxation, and Sam. Sam was with him everywhere but the bathroom, it seemed. Dragging him outside to make sure he was getting some sun at their little beachside hotel...sitting next to him in bed reading, stopping to show Nate interesting chapters...he wouldn't even go get food unless Nathan went with him. And Nathan knew exactly why, too, because he felt the same way. 

Even Sully was sticking abnormally close by, forgoing trips to bars or old friends in favor of staying in with the Drake brothers. He and Sam had both aged backwards since Nate had been found; Sam finally looked his age again, and Sully looked ten years younger, joking that Nathan's return was basically "a free facelift". 

"Hey," Sam said tonight, as Sully was walking in with dinner in take-out bags, "it just occurred to me that you're old enough to drink now, little brother!" he gave his brother an affectionate squeeze, his arm already around him as they lounged on the bed. Nate grinned and gave a little laugh. "Heh. Yeah, I guess so."

"Here." Sully took out a beer from the fridge. "Have at it."

Nate laughed a little again. "I have had beer BEFORE, you know." 

"What???" Sam gasped comically. "I'm scandalized. Nathan Drake, how could you?" 

The laughs went on into the night, and Nathan felt good...that is, until it got quiet. Sully was outside having a cigar while Sam took a shower, and for the first time since his rescue, Nathan was alone. He fidgeted on the bed, sitting up and looking around. 

"Okay, Nathan," he murmured to himself, just like he used to. "Okay, it's nothing. Just the hotel room. Sam'll be right out. He'll be right out." 

He twiddled his thumbs and fidgeted again--but something was rising up in him, something that had been kept at bay by his makeshift family's chatty nature. He suddenly had the urge to turn on the TV, or some music or something...but they didn't HAVE music, and TV was depressing...

He couldn't go into the bathroom to be with Sam, that would be too weird...

Nathan bolted outside like a shot before he even realized he'd done it. Sully, right next to the door, jumped in the dimming sunshine. "Jesus, Nate, where's the fire?" 

"H-hmm?" Nate jolted a little again and looked around quickly before refocusing on Sullivan's face and regaining some control. "Oh, no, no I--" he rubbed his head for a second. "No fire."

"Y'okay?" Sully scrutinized him over his cigar casually. Nate was already nodding. "M-mhmmm, yeah, fine," he said lightly, looking out over the beautiful Italian cliffsides below them. They'd chosen Italy for its beautiful scenery, but also because there was an auction happening at the Rossi estate next week that had Avery's cross. Sam and Sully weren't officially going unless they thought Nathan was feeling up to it, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited by the idea.

"Nathan?" Sam's voice was right behind him, and Nate turned to see Sam shirtless and still-damp, running a towel through his hair. It only took a glance from Sully for Sam to know that something was up. 

"What, you takin' in the view?" Nate nodded with a light laugh in response, but still wasn't looking at them. 

"It's not going anywhere, Nathan," Sully said in a joking tone, but the look he was giving Sam was still serious. "He ran out here like a shot," he said. Sam sensed from Sully's gaze that he wasn't exaggerating. 

"Really." Nate sensed from Sam's tone behind him that he was stepping closer and moving into parenting-mode. He'd missed Sam so much...but he still instinctively felt guilty like he'd been bad, and tensed.

"Everything all right?" Sam held Nathan's neck in a gentle one-handed squeeze, watching his face. Nathan looked straight ahead for the most part, but gave Sam a grateful glance. 

"Yeah, fine," he said lightly, ready to move on. 

"Nathannnn..." the firm warning tone was unexpected, and made Nathan look at his big brother sheepishly. Sam raised a stern eyebrow and held up the index finger of his free hand. 

"I've got one word for you. Africa." Nate immediately sighed and recoiled a little like a reluctantly disciplined animal, but Sam held onto him and moved his head to make their gazes meet. "AFRICA," he said again, "AFRICA AFRICA AFRICA. You PROMISED, remember?" he could see that Nate was slowly nodding and stilling in his grip, but added another one for good measure: "AFRICA."

"I got it, I got it," Nate muttered. Sam raised his eyebrows almost comically, even though there was real firmness behind it. "No way am I lettin' you get away with this shit again. AFRICA. Come on," he said patronizingly, Nate grudgingly meeting his eyes and still looking so much like a misbehaving little kid that Sam couldn't help a small chuckle. "Now," he said sternly. "What's the matter." 

"Should I ask what "Africa" is--I mean," Sully shrugged "besides, you know, what it is...?"

"Not now, Victor," Sam said, eyes fixed on Nate. "Nathan..."

Nathan fidgeted under the stern tone and gaze, but Sam was unyielding. He knew if he gave an inch on this particular issue, Nathan would take a mile. 

Nate gave in and half-shrugged. "It was just--" his voice was quiet and higher-pitched than normal "It was just my first time being alone. Y'know, since--" His eyes went between Sam and the ground erratically, and he put his head down. 

Sam was quiet for a moment, chastened and feeling incredibly guilty once again. He'd already TOLD Nathan he was sorry, hundreds of times this past month, and Nathan had said it wasn't his fault and meant it. But Guilt was a real son of a bitch, and it never really listened. Fuck, Sam thought. Fuck. But his baby brother needed him, he could see it in those big blue eyes, so he pushed past it. 

"All right." He stepped a little closer and rubbed Nathan's neck again. "Listen, little brother." Nathan met his gaze tentatively, desperately needing encouragement. "You're gonna get through this. Hm?" He ducked his head to hold Nate's gaze and smiled a small empathetic smirk. Nate nodded a little, like an athlete being coached. "You are. You're gonna be all right. Don't worry. I gotcha. And so does Sullivan here, although not as well as me." He nodded towards Sully, making Nate laugh, and Sully pretended to roll his eyes. In truth, he couldn't be happier to be back to Sam's mocking barbs and jealousy. It was a hell of a lot better than before. And besides, he knew Sam loved to put on a clown show for Nathan. Nathan always made a great audience. 

"Better?" Nate nodded in response, a full nod now, and Sam abruptly held his head tight and kissed it in a hug for a second before patting his brother on the back. "All right then. Good. Now come on," he wrapped a guiding arm around Nathan's body "let's get inside before these Italian babes see me shirtless and have to leave their husbands."

Nate and Sully's laughs carried them inside--but Sam still held on tight to his brother for the rest of the night.

It wasn't until they were all in bed, Nate and Sam in one and Sully hogging the other, that Victor had to ask again. "So are you two really not gonna tell me what Africa is, or what?" 

"Oh, right," Sam sat up next to Nathan, who was laying down a little lower on his pillow and was therefore in the middle of the conversation. He knew what was coming, and prepared himself to be chastised again. 

"So," Sam held up his hands, clearly eager to start his usual dynamic telling of a story, "When I was eighteen and Nathan was thirteen, I got this job on an archaeological marine expedition off the coast of West Africa. Right?" Sully nodded. "Okay."

"But I didn't want to go if Nathan was going to completely fall apart without me. But he LIED" Sam said, looking down at Nathan pointedly, and Nate gave him a timid glance, arms crossed "and said that he was totally fine with it. So I go" he said, gesturing wildly with his hands, and Nate waiting uncomfortably for the punch line "and I write him all these letters about what a great time I'm having and he's answering with his drawings and stuff, and then I get home a year later and what do I find?" He paused for dramatic effect, looking down at Nathan again as he continued. "A SKELETON of Nathan with black holes for eyes because he'd given up on eating and sleeping because he missed me so much. For a YEAR, without telling me. Because he didn't want me to worry and come back. Isn't that RIGHT, Nathan," he said, raising an eyebrow. 

Nathan fidgeted under both men's gazes, and half-shrugged. "I--"

"YES it is" Sam cut him off "And from then on I made him promise he was never gonna pull that protect-my-big-brother-from-my-problems-bullshit again. DIDN'T I, Nathan."

Nate nodded, and Sam triumphantly held up his hands. "So: Africa." 

"Ah. Africa." Sully lifted his cigar to his lips. "Good to know." 

"But that apparently doesn't mean he's stopped TRYING, does it Nathan," Sam smirked. Nate let out a grudging sigh, but couldn't help smiling a little. This felt so much like it had before; they were falling into their old rhythm again. Even if he WAS a little in trouble because of it. 

And he couldn't deny that telling his brother what was making him upset had helped. Maybe there was something to this sharing-thing after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Seven days later, it was August 1st, and time to head to the Rossi estate--

**_*ah-cheep!*_ **

Sam and Sullivan stopped in their tracks, bags on their shoulders, and turned to look at Nathan. 

"Nathan," Sully said slowly, "what in GOD's name just came out of your mouth?"

"Oh shit," Sam said at the same time, but he was smiling. 

Nathan glowered at Sam for a second before answering Sully. "N-nothing, I-- ** _*ah-cheep!*_**

Sully's head went back by the unexpected second one, and Sam started cracking up. Nate gave him another glare and a sniffle. 

"It's August, Nathan," Sam said, laughingly, "we should've known."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sully asked. "What WAS that?"

"It's a sneeze," Nate grudgingly sniffled. Sully looked at him, aghast. 

"Sneeze? You sound like a baby bird on helium!" Sam burst out laughing at that, and Nate tried and failed to look offended.

"No I-- ** _*ah-cheep!*--_** don't--"

"YES you"--Nate inadvertently proved Sully's case by interrupting with another ** _*ah-cheep*_** \--"do." 

Sam was still laughing hard, but managed to pat Sully on the back, and gasp out "Nathan gets these every year, August to December--" ** _*_** ** _ah-cheep!*_** "like clockwork." 

"You gotta be kidding me. How did I not know that I'm secretly working with an asthmatic squirrel?" 

Sam giggled again. "Must've just--"  ** _*_** ** _ah-cheep!*_** "been that you didn't work with us during those months."

"Well, I do like to summer in Cabo during the winter part of the year," Sully surmised, chuckling. Nate's glare was diluted by yet another **_*_** ** _ah-cheep!*_**."But what the hell are we gonna do about Minnie Mouse over here? We can't exactly have him sneaking through the vents incognito if he's gonna squeak every five seconds--" 

**_*ah-CHEEP!*_ **

That one made them both laugh harder, and Nate giggled despite himself. "S- ** _*ah-cheep!* -_** Sorry, Sully--" 

"Good grief, how long does this go on?"

"All day, every day," Sam laughed, ruffling Nathan's head affectionately. "And it never gets old. Funniest part of my year." 

"Well, let's get him on the plane. I don't want to be accused of sneaking mice out of the nearest pet store." 

"That's not funny Sully-- ** _*ah-cheep!*_** "

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Two hours later, Nathan had been successfully smuggled into the Rossi estate and sent up to the power room where he could squeak in peace. 

"Nathan," Sully asked over the comms "you sure you can manage the climb?"

"Oh don't worry, Victor, Nathan doesn't have the REST of the cold, it's just the sneezes," Sam answered as he put on his newly-stolen waiter's outfit in the kitchen. "He'll be able to SQUEAK by." 

"Ha- ** _*ah-cheep!*_** -ha, very funny," Nate snorted as he climbed. 

"I thought so," Sam said brightly. 

"Hey, maybe the guards will hear you on the roof and just mistake you for a large chipmunk," Sully added with a laugh. 

"Okay, smartasses, I'm going to  ** _*ah-cheep!*_** "

"What was that?"

"Shut up Sam. Bye for now." In a way, Nathan thought as he signed off, he was glad that his sneezes had arrived. It was a nice distraction from the fact that he and Sam were splitting up for a few hours--a first since the rescue. And he knew Sam hadn't been looking forward to it any more than he had. 

**_*ah-cheep!*_ **

Then again, he thought as he climbed, perhaps there was ** _*ah-cheep!*_** something to  ** _*ah-cheep!*_** be said for  ** _*ah-cheep!*_** the occasional silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some light-hearted love to balance out the emotion of these two boys <3


End file.
